


we've got all the ingredients (except you loving me)

by yeosakoi



Category: Golden Child (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Confessions, Fluff, Love Letters, M/M, Valentine's Day, and he secretly writes his own for jibeom hehe, it's just cute okay, joochan gets paid by people to write love letters for their significant others, second chapter is some bomhyun owo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29179599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeosakoi/pseuds/yeosakoi
Summary: “But just wondering,” Jibeom starts, leaning forward. “How many love letters am I getting this year?” For the umpteenth time, Joochan regrets telling the other just how many letters he's commissioned to write about him each year.“Just know that you won’t have space to put even your shoes into your locker,” he says dryly. “So just come barefoot.”
Relationships: Choi Bomin/Kim Donghyun, Hong Joochan/Kim Jibeom
Comments: 15
Kudos: 54





	1. epiphany

**Author's Note:**

> henlo again~ first off: WOW GOLCHA COMEBACK WAS SPECTACULAR. THE SONG, THE MV, THE ALBUM, THE VISUALS- WOW. and they got their second win with burn it today, i'm so proud !! seeing the boys cry hurt my heart but in a good way t-t. anyways, enjoy this joobeom and consider leaving a kudo and comment if u do~
> 
> (this fic is inspired by [this](https://twitter.com/hiitaylorblake/status/991775156761694208?s=20) tweet !)
> 
> (title is from cake - melanie martinez !)

“Hey, Joochan. Are you finished with the letter I commissioned you for?” Joochan peeks up from where he has been writing feverishly for the past hour to squint at the short boy who has his hands on the desk, his thick eyebrows drawn together. He sports a shock of silver hair, and Joochan vaguely remembers him as the leader of the kendo club. Managing to send a forced smile in the boy’s direction, he quickly gathers the papers scattered on his desk.

“Fortunately…” His gaze darts across the mess of papers, heart sinking as he finds that the letter he’d filed away about some junior named Youngtaek is only half-finished, ending somewhere along the lines of how his _“eyes hold the milky way.”_ He clears his throat. “Ahem. _Unfortunately,_ ” he looks back up, shrinking back a little when he finds that frown on the other’s ( _Seungmin,_ his brain supplies helpfully) face is only deepening with every word. “It still isn’t finished.” 

He doesn’t need to look back to know that Seungmin is absolutely fuming, so he quickly amends, “it’ll be done for sure by today.”

Seungmin purses his lips and slides his hands off of the desk. “It better be, I paid for that.”  
  
“Don’t worry, it will,” Joochan assures him, keeping back the angry twitch that threatens to show up on his lips. Seungmin eyes him with a doubtful look before he walks away, but not before he throws yet _another_ disapproving glance in his direction. Once he’s out the door, Joochan lets his smile drop, rolling his eyes and whispering, “it’s only five bucks.”

Still a little huffy, he turns his attention back to the unfinished letters, picking up his pencil again. He doesn’t get past one word describing how wonderful this Youngtaek is before he sighs and abandons the attempt, instead dipping down to fish out his notebook solely reserved for the letters he writes for Jibeom. 

He knows he should probably be working on all the letters he had promised both girls and boys alike that he’ll finish by the end of the day, but these certain lines had been swimming in his mind the entire day and refuse to leave until he puts them down.

Besides, he thinks, anything regarding Jibeom will always have more priority over everything else.

Dragging his eyes over the open notebook, he’s suddenly embarrassed about all the little sketches of Jibeom he had done mindlessly, starting to furiously erase them.

“Are you finished with your customers, or do I have to wait in line?” Joochan nearly jumps out of his skin, recognizing the voice even before his head snaps up in a panic. On instinct, he slams the notebook shut, shoving it into his bag. He’s sweating bullets as he looks up to find the one and only Kim Jibeom standing over him, arms crossed and brow raised. “What’s that all about?”

Joochan laughs nervously, leaning back in his seat and trying to relax his limbs. “Nothing. Just my Chemistry notes,” he lies. “Hey, Jibeom. What’re you doing here?”

Jibeom eyes him with a sort of confused expression, most likely trying to make sense of his strange behavior. Joochan pushes the notebook a bit deeper into his bag, feeling self-conscious. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t push any further and instead clambers onto the desk in front of Joochan’s. “Just wanted to pay a visit to my best friend,” he says, then adds, “you weren’t there during practice.” He looks dejected, and Joochan immediately feels bad for skipping.

“Sorry, Jibeomie.” He fiddles with his pencil. “Tomorrow’s Valentine’s, so I’ve had a lot more people demanding me to write love notes. I won’t skip next time,” he promises. Jibeom brightens up immediately. 

“I mean, I don’t mind,” he says, bringing a knee up to rest his chin on it. His face betrays his words. “I know you’re very busy and popular.”

“I wouldn’t say _popular…”_ Joochan amends warily. He really isn’t. The one who is popular out of the two of them is clearly- 

“But just wondering,” Jibeom starts, leaning forward, an excited smile drawn across his lips. “How many love letters am I getting this year?”

Joochan sighs good-naturally, leveling a deadpan look at the red-haired boy across him, once again regretting telling him just how many letters he’s been commissioned to write about him each year. (Not that he minds writing them. After all, he has his own secret letters stashed away, all addressed to Jibeom himself. Not that they would ever see the light of day, or worse, Jibeom’s gaze.) 

Valentine’s isn’t the only time of the year either. Every week, without fail, some giggly girl will approach Joochan and slip him a bill or two and request him to write yet another love note for them to slip into Jibeom’s locker, and now the other has made it a habit to frequently ask Joochan how many letters to expect. 

“Just know that you won’t have space to put even your shoes into your locker,” he says dryly. “So just come barefoot.” Jibeom snorts.

“Duly noted.” He squints at Joochan again, with enough intensity to make him squirm. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

Jibeom rolls his eyes. “Tell me which of our friends are going to confess?”

Joochan glares. “I am _not_ telling you that. That’s a matter of their privacy.”

The other makes a noise that sounds close to a whine. “I won’t tell anyone. And besides, we’ll find out soon enough.”

“No, _you_ can wait,” he retorts.

“Please?” Jibeom’s giving him that dazzling smile of his now, the type that makes girls trip over their own feet and has even boys questioning their sexuality. The type of smile that Joochan can’t ever say no to, and he’s sure the other doesn’t even know the effect it has. Intentionally or not, Joochan’s resolve cracks. 

“Fine, but I’m only telling you because you’ll come and attack me for not telling you otherwise.” He glances around as if someone is eavesdropping on them in the empty room. Nevertheless, he gestures for Jibeom to come closer, who eagerly shuffles forward, cocking his head in Joochan’s direction. “Bomin’s planning to… he said _serenade_ but I’m trying to figure out if he was being serious or not—which, I sure hope not, because that’d be a spectacle—Donghyun with-'' He's cut off by the disbelieving gasp Jibeom lets out.

“He’s going to do _what?!”_ Jibeom’s already pushing himself off the desk, most likely to go and give Bomin a piece of his mind. “I can’t believe it, I haven’t heard a word of this, my two closest friends!” His expression darkens. “Or I _thought_ they were my closest friends-” Joochan holds back an exasperated sigh and stands up, reaching out to grab Jibeom’s hand and yank him back before he can do anything stupid like expose Bomin’s crush on Donghyun in front of the other. He wouldn’t put it past him.

“Let em’ be,” Joochan says tiredly. Jibeom goes lax under his grip. “Poor Bomin’s been already keeping it bottled up for years, you don’t need to ruin his big chance. I, personally, am sick and tired of seeing their epic love story unfold before my eyes. And besides, anyone with eyes can see that they’re heads over heels for each other, you’re just dumb…” He trails off when he notices that Jibeom isn’t paying attention to him. “Are you even listening?” He snaps, turning to the other before he notices what Jibeom’s eyes are pinpointed on. Following his gaze, Joochan looks down to find their hands between them.

Which are joined together. Because of Joochan, when he had grabbed Jibeom’s hand to pull him back. Somewhere along the last few seconds, he had apparently interlocked their fingers. 

Joochan’s cheeks flame and an embarrassed heat spreads like wildfire across his body. He immediately snatches his hand away and backs up as fast he can, babbling apologies all the while. “Sorry—I was just making you wouldn’t go do something dumb, I definitely didn’t mean to hold—I mean grab—your hand. Haha. Accident.”

Jibeom blinks at him as he rambles on, face strangely blank compared to a moment ago. “Yeah, I got you.” He blinks a couple more times before he’s pulling out his phone and glancing at the time. “Sorry, Joochannie, Jaehyun is nagging me. I have to go now. See you.”

He shoots Joochan a strained smile and then he’s slipping away, pushing open the door and rushing out. 

“Wait—Jibeom!” Joochan stares after him, taken aback by his sudden exit. The sound of someone giggling can be heard through the door and he snaps out of it, slapping his palms onto his face and dragging them down. “ _Shiiiiiiit.”_

He storms back to his seat, angrily pulling out his notebook again, flipping through the pages carelessly. “Why you always gotta mess it up, Joochan.” 

Cursing under his breath, he tries to make sense of what it might have been that had caused Jibeom’s sudden shift in behavior. He already knows the answer, even if he wishes he didn’t. Did unconsciously holding Jibeom’s hand, even to just hold him back, weird out the other that much? It isn’t as if they haven’t held hands before…

He tries, unsuccessfully, to focus on the unfinished letter before him. This one had been commissioned by one of the junior girls for their homeroom teacher Daeyeol. Joochan’s pretty sure _this_ relationship isn’t going anywhere, but he hadn’t had the heart to tell the girl, lest he has to face her wrath. At the moment, he can’t find the energy to wax poetry about their teacher’s _sculpted jaw_ and _muscular arms_ that _look_ _warm and secure and feel like home,_ and he slams his notebook shut and stomps out of the classroom, fuming at himself. 

The thought of Jibeom lurks at the forefront of his mind like always, except today it puts him in a bad mood, to the point that even his dog, Bbogeul, avoids his room as Joochan angrily scribbles love sonnets about said boy for girls who think they have a chance with him.

Then again, they have more chances with Jibeom than _he_ does, Joochan thinks bitterly. 

His mood only rises when he’s cleaning up for bed and his screen lights up with a text from the very person who has been plaguing his mind all day. 

**jibe0m:**

_sorry for running out earlier, jaehyun would have been annoyed if i didn’t get out right then • (20: 16)_

The smallest hint of a smile touches Joochan’s lips as he turns the phone over, leaving the message unread. It’s a little pathetic, really, that all it takes for him to get back into high spirits is a single text from Jibeom, but he decides not to think too deeply about it. 

Instead, he begins to shovel all the love letters he’ll have to deliver to his respective customers tomorrow into his bag, taking care to stack them neatly and place them gently into his bag, making sure that none of the edges crease or fold. 

He frowns at one of the letters, trying to figure out whose it is. It’s addressed to Jibeom, but so are dozens of others. He can’t rip it open to check, because he’s sealed it carefully and the envelope is too beautiful to waste. Joochan looks over at his own stack of envelopes nestled across his desk, sealed shut, and the recipient to all of them embarrassingly Jibeom. 

Not that Jibeom will ever see any of them, nor will he ever deliver them to their intended reader. 

Examining the letter carefully, he shrugs, tossing it into his bag. As long as none of his own letters ends up in there—the idea of that even happening somehow makes him chuckle—it doesn’t matter. 

Slipping the last letter into his bag, Joochan zips it shut, then collapses onto the bed and ignores the increasingly loud shouts of his sister as she hollers his name. 

  
  
  


He nearly doesn’t make it out alive the next morning, what with being swamped with a mob of people demanding for him to hand over their commissioned love letters. Bomin bringing another crowd of girls with him as Joochan hurriedly digs out the other’s letter for Donghyun doesn’t help either, and neither does Jangjun clinging to him, screaming for any love letters that might be addressed to him and generally being a nuisance. His screams only double in pitch when Joochan informs him that there’s none, refusing to believe him.

Sungyoon shows up in the nick of time to grab the screaming boy by the collar and stuff a dozen of letters into his hands, telling him, “if you want love letters so bad, just take some of mine and pretend they’re written for you.” Jangjun snatches them up excitedly, ignoring the _Dearest Sungyoon_ inscribed on the back of them all. Joochan shoots Sungyoon his most grateful look over the chaos. 

A pretty boy Joochan recognizes as Jeon Woong shows no courtesy in snatching the letter from Joochan’s hands, ignoring when Joochan calls after him and demands a thank you, especially since he hadn’t charged the other because of the fact that he’s a friend of Jangjun’s as well. His shout is drowned out by the excited chatter of the crowd.

Joochan thinks his eardrums will have suffered a considerable amount of damage by the time the day is over.

“I honestly thought you’d never finish,” Seungmin says as Joochan tiredly hands him the letter, and then walks away without passing bills into Joochan’s hands. Joochan warily adds him to the only-growing list of people who have yet to pay him back.

The true challenge is to somehow stuff all the love letters for Jibeom into the other’s locker before he arrives. It’s proving to be quite a feat.

“Steady, steady,” Joochan murmurs, slipping the flat envelope through the tiny crack of the locker. He’s down to the last letter, which is refusing to fit inside when someone clears their throat from behind him. He freezes, caught dead in the act.

Slowly turning around, the last letter still in his hands, he meets the eyes of Jibeom, who looks amused. The apples of his cheeks prominent and round like they are when he’s trying not to laugh. 

“Finished yet?”

Joochan scowls, gritting his teeth. “You’re not supposed to witness this!” He hisses, glancing around wildly, then down at the envelope clutched in his fists. “Shit. Just-” He shoves the last letter into Jibeom’s chest, startling the other briefly. “Take this. I’ll see you later!!” With that, he flees the scene, leaving the other blinking in his wake. 

Collapsing into his seat, Joochan mops his forehead, slumping down onto his desk. Finally, all the love letters are delivered and the Valentine’s Day rush is over. He won’t have to scrawl out any more notes for some time, and he’ll have some peace and quiet for once-

A sudden dread seizes him as he realizes that the yearly occurrence of the girls hunting down Jibeom to confess to him, which in turn Joochan would help him escape every time, still hasn’t come to pass.

Groaning, he lets his head thump against his desk.

It’s going to be a long day. 

  
  
  


As if by clockwork, Joochan’s phone rings just as the first period ends, and it’s no surprise when he checks it to find that it’s Jibeom. Even before raising the phone to his ear, he knows what it is that Jibeom is going to whisper-shout through the line. 

“Joochannie, you need to help me, I’m-” Joochan calmly hangs up and sets the phone down.

Less than a minute passes and there’s yet another incoming call. As expected, it’s Jibeom once again. This time, he sounds desperate. 

“Joochan, please, if you don’t come and help me I don't think I’ll make out alive.” Joochan sighs, already knowing what this is about. “I’ve been in here for _at least_ half-an-hour and they _still_ haven’t left!” 

Next to him, Donghyun raises a brow questioningly as the two of them exit the classroom, clearly able to hear Jibeom’s tinny voice whining through the phone. Joochan mouths _Jibeom_ at him, before asking, “bathroom?”

“Yeah.” The pleading note is back in Jibeom’s voice now. _“Please.”_

Joochan makes a humming noise as if he’s mulling over it. “Hm, I don’t know.”  
  
“I’ll do anything you ask for,” Jibeom clamors. “Do your homework, be your slave for a day, make you dinner-”

“First off,” Joochan says, cutting him off midway, “your cooking sucks. So, no. But…” An idea springs in his mind. “What you _can_ do is get me fried chicken.” Might as well make the most of it.

“Okay!”

“Four boxes.”  
  
“O-okay.”

Joochan’s lip twitches at Jibeom’s slightly-less sure tone. “It’s a deal then,” He says, ending the call, humming all the while. Next to him, Donghyun shoots him a look of disbelief. 

“Glutton,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “You would have gone and helped him anyway.” Joochan shrugs, even though Donghyun is right. Jibeom didn’t need to go to such lengths to convince him. Really, if he had said _please_ once more, Joochan would have barreled off by now, chicken or no chicken. He throws an arm around Donghyun’s shoulders, who makes a noise of disgust and tries to violently shrug it off. 

“It’s called _taking advantage,_ my dear friend,” Joochan corrects, ignoring Donghyun’s mutter of _who’s your friend,_ “you should try it sometimes.”

“No, thank you. I’d rather choke and die than follow any of your advice.” Before Joochan can be offended, Donghyun continues, “so why exactly does Jibeom not just… get a girlfriend and be on his merry way? It would save him from all this...” he waves a hand, gesturing to Joochan, “...mess he gets himself into far too often. Not to mention, he’d stop being trailed and asked out everywhere.”

Joochan tries to pretend his heart doesn’t palpitate a little too hard at the thought of Jibeom getting a girlfriend, playing it off by shrugging once more. “He never mentioned anything or showed any interest, I guess.” 

“Huh.” Donghyun looks at Joochan, then ahead of him. Then back at Joochan again, something that looks like realization crossing his face. “Unless…” He mumbles something under his breath that Joochan doesn’t catch and he’s about to demand and ask him what it is, especially when Donghyun gives him a particularly withering look as if he’s disappointed in him. He doesn't get the chance to because Donghyun points to something ahead of them. “Isn’t that where your damsel in distress is holed up?”

Joochan follows his hand to where he’s pointing at, to find that, yes, it is indeed the entrance to where Jibeom must be hiding out in the bathroom. The reason he’s sure is because of the swarm of girls crowding the entrance, chattering impatiently among themselves. Joochan’s features contort into one of disgust, and he’s sure that Donghyun is sporting the same expression. This school is shitty enough that they can’t even be bothered with clearing out the hallways. 

He heaves a sigh. “Well, this is my stop,” he says, offering Donghyun a crooked smile. “Wish me luck.” He bounds off before Donghyun can offer him some snarky reply. 

The girls immediately take notice of him as he attempts to sneak into the bathroom, approaching him with bright eyes that are narrowed suspiciously and smiles that are too wide. Joochan feels very much like prey being picked at by a vulture as they demand _why_ Jibeom is taking his sweet time to exit. Joochan barely holds back from quipping, _I dunno, maybe it’s constipation?_

Plastering a smile onto his face, he makes a show of cocking his head and scrunching his brows together in confusion. “That’s strange!” He chirps. “Jibeomie just texted me minutes ago telling me that he’s not feeling well and decided to head home early today!” The girl’s chatter increases by tenfold at his words, confusion imminent as they glance at each other. 

“But Areum said that she saw-” Joochan is quick to interrupt, inching closer to the bathroom.

“She must have been seeing things! I, of course, as Jibeom’s best friend, would know best.” He tries for his most convincing smile. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to take a shit.” 

He ducks into the bathroom before they can interrogate him any further, breathing a sigh of relief as he slams the door shut behind him. 

“Joochannie?” Joochan wheels around, his eyes landing on Jibeom, who’s crouched at the opposite end of the bathroom, his eyes big and round. A puff of laughter leaves him before he can think about it.

“You’re really hiding out here,” he marvels. Jibeom clearly doesn’t appreciate the amusement Joochan is taking from his situation, if the unimpressed look he shoots Joochan is any indication. 

“As if you haven’t seen me do the exact same thing the last few years of my life. Anyways…” He nervously peeks around Joochan, as if he’ll be able to see through the narrow crack of the door. “Are they gone?”

Joochan opens the door just a crack, peeking out. He’s pleasantly surprised to find that there’s no trace of the girls that had been there just moments ago. Maybe he’s more convincing than he has originally thought. He gives Jibeom a thumbs up. “The coast is clear.”

“Thank fuck.” The two of them exit the restroom side-by-side, Jibeom more relaxed than before but his eyes still darting warily in every direction. “I was considering crawling out the window if you hadn’t shown up in time.” He nudges Joochan’s hand, dropping something small and hard in it, and Joochan blinks down to find a heart wrapped in pink and gold foil. Chocolate. He looks back up at Jibeom questioningly, whose eyes twinkle. “Consider this as a thank you.”

“Don’t think this means I’ll forget about my promised chicken,” Joochan says, even as he unwraps the chocolate and pops it into his mouth. Jibeom makes a pathetic little sound next to him.

“Of course, there’s no way you’d ever forget about your precious chicken.” By the sound of his voice, he’s already regretting his promise and mourning the loss of his wallet. 

They walk in silence as Joochan licks the chocolate off of his fingers and against his will, Donghyun’s words from earlier swims back into his mind. It strikes him as odd then, that Jibeom has never even tried to ask out someone or go on a date, and he wonders how he’d never noticed.

Maybe he’d been so caught up in dealing with his own feelings that he had never thought about how it would be Jibeom _did_ have a significant other, what it would mean for him.

Before he can think, the words come out. “Wouldn’t this be easier if you-” He stops in his tracks as Jibeom’s head turns in his direction, but it’s too late to stop now. “I dunno, just get a girlfriend or something?” He accentuates his question with an awkward laugh, cringing internally. 

Instead of making a joke or laughing it off with some lame excuse, Jibeom’s face morphs into something he can’t quite read before it smoothes out, and he shrugs. “Well…” His eyes lock onto Joochan’s. “...I never really thought about it, I guess.”

“Oh.” The chocolate suddenly feels too sweet at the back of his throat as he stares at Jibeom, Jibeom right back at him. 

Whatever _this_ is breaks as Jibeom’s smiles, expression back to his usual aloof one, and bumps his shoulder into Joochan’s. “Why? Have someone you want to set me up with?” 

Joochan gulps dryly, mind still catching up with their strange exchange seconds ago. “And who would I set you with? Donghyun? You know that I don’t have any other friends other than our shared ones.”

Jibeom makes a face at even the prospect of getting involved with Donghyun romantically. “No way. And I would be dishonoring the honor code even if I tried. I don’t think Bomin would be very accepting.”

“I think it’s more likely that Donghyun would find a reason to slap you and then storm out of the date before anything even happened.” The reminder of Bomin has his mind flitting to the grand plan Bomin had told him excitedly about. “I wonder if Bomin has executed his plan yet. Donghyun seemed clueless before so I guess he hasn’t…” Jibeom jolts at that, as if he’s remembered something. 

“I’m sure it’d be the talk of the school if he had. And that reminds me!” He turns to Joochan, and by the look in his eyes, Joochan can already tell that he’s going to be asked for yet _another_ favor. “It’ll be impossible for me to carry all the letters and sort them back home by myself. I can’t do this alone, so-”

“No-”

“Five boxes of chicken!” Joochan stops short. Jibeom sure knows how to strike a bargain, appealing to Joochan’s stomach.

“I can’t believe you’re going to make me reread all _my_ writing again,” he complains. “You don’t think I’ve done enough of that?”

“This is different,” Jibeom insists. “And besides, I think there are some spectacular ones this time.”

“Jibeom, _I_ wrote them all, I would know-”

He screeches to a stop when Jibeom suddenly grabs his hands, nearly tripping over his feet and crashing to the floor at the sudden action. Jibeom squeezes his hands as Joochan stares up at him, wide-eyed. “My house after. Come to my locker so we can get the letters. Thanks. See you then.” With that, he hops away, slipping into what must be his class.

Joochan looks on after him, dazed, before he shakes his head and trudges on to his own. At least he’ll be getting chicken out of this. 

  
  
  


Joochan’s not sure if it’s amusing or touching the way Jibeom cradles the letters so gently, taking the utmost care to not crease or mess up the envelopes in any way. For someone who shows little to no interest in the contents inside, he sure takes keeping them in perfect shape seriously. 

It gets a little dumb when Jibeom stubbornly refuses to let Joochan put them in his backpack, even after Joochan points out that he had _literally_ brought them here in it. Too weak to deny Jibeom of anything, he gives up and goes along with the other’s stupidity, the two of them strutting out of the school with their arms full of letters and the occasional chocolate. They get a few curious glances from passersby whose expressions melt into understanding once they catch sight of Jibeom’s face.

Must be nice being handsome, Joochan muses.

Jibeom’s house is empty like it always is when Joochan comes over after school. They toe off their shoes and somehow maneuver their way into Jibeom’s room, where Joochan has no mercy in simply dropping all the letters to the floor, cackling at the shocked gasp Jibeom lets out.

“It’s back to four boxes,” Jibeom grouses, which Joochan ignores. They spend a few minutes too much bantering back and forth before they begin to seriously sort the letters. 

Sorting the letters is the easy part—they go in piles of “I don’t like them” and “they’re fine” and Joochan makes a mental note to collect the list of people Jibeom dislikes and straight-up refuse to write for them next time—it’ll save him a ton of energy and stress. 

The annoying part is that Jibeom insists on reading every letter aloud, his voice changing to suit the tone of each one. It’s a little surreal to him, as Jibeom voices his opinions on the points the girls had told Joochan to add, knowing that he has dozens of letters for Jibeom tucked away. 

He can’t help but wonder how Jibeom would react to a letter from _him._ Would he be shocked? Touched? Disgusted with how _enamored_ Joochan is with Jibeom? He supposes that he’ll never know.

In a way, these letters—Joochan stares down at the open one in his lap—are all love letters from him, aren’t they? Sure, he’d added whatever superficial points and details the sender had requested, but at the end, no matter what, his own feelings of affection would somehow worm their way into the writing, bleeding through the pages, through the words. 

“The way you wrote this, it’s almost as if _you’re_ the one in love with me.” 

Joochan chokes. 

Heart hammering against his ribcage as if it’s trying to escape, he whips his head towards Jibeom, who’s watching him once again with that strange expression that Joochan can’t read, and he _hates_ it. He swallows dryly. “M-me? In love with _you_?” His hand instinctively settles on the back of his neck, and he curses himself for stuttering. “Now that’s im-'' He chokes up a little. “-possible. I’m just good at details.”

“Hm.” Jibeom drops the letter back down. “True. _You’d_ never fall for me.” The peculiar tone of his voice and the strange expression of his face is still there, even as he smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “That’d be crazy, huh?”  
  
Joochan’s heart sinks. 

“Y-yeah, crazy,” he forces out, even as if he feels like he’s been slapped across the face. _Crazy._ The _idea_ of Joochan being in love with Jibeom—was crazy to Jibeom. So he has no chance, has never had any chance. 

He suddenly wants to run far, far away and bury himself under his covers and cry. 

Somehow, he holds back the tears that threaten to spill, busying himself with slicing open the next envelope. If he hadn’t been dealing with this love for years now, he would have been a hot mess by now. 

A strange sort of air has settled over them, thick and suffocating. It makes his heart ache and his ribs feel tight and he’s not sure what he can do to fix it, but all he knows is that he hates it and wishes desperately that it’ll leave. 

They finish neatly sorting the letters with the air suffocating them, stepping back to admire their handiwork. Joochan squints at the letters, then his hands, where he’s been keeping count of every letter. Then repeats the process, looking up, looking down. He frowns. Had he miscounted? 

No, he knows he hasn’t. “There's a letter missing,” he says, turning to face Jibeom, trying to tamper down the way his heart aches as he looks into Jibeom’s face and remembers his previous words. “I know for sure I didn’t miscount.” 

Jibeom’s frown mirrors Joochan’s as he looks from the sorted letters than to Joochan, and then a wave of clarity seems to hit him. “Oh.”

He reaches into his vest, groping around as Joochan watches in growing confusion. “You’re right.” With a flourish, he pulls out the last envelope, Joochan’s brows shooting up at the sudden reveal, Jibeom grinning at his reaction. “I read this one out of curiosity and liked it enough that I didn’t put it away.”

“Oh.” Joochan supposes that’s a compliment to his writing. “Thanks-?” He says, unsure. “Well, if you’ve already read it, then you can put it in whichever stack it belongs to-'' He stops short as Jibeom grabs his wrist, pressing the letter into his hand. Whatever it had been that Joochan was going to say dies on his tongue as he looks between Jibeom and the letter in confusion. He feels like he’s been doing a lot of that lately. 

“Read it,” Jibeom says. Joochan’s left eye twitches. 

“I told you. I know. I _wrote_ them all-” 

“I know,” Jibeom interrupts. “But I think you should read this one. Because…” he hesitates for a moment, before continuing. “Even after all the letters I read, this one was the best.” And then, softly, “...helps that I like this person the best too.”

Something hurts in Joochan’s chest, and his hands ball up into fists. Before he can help it, he snaps, “then maybe you should ask them out.” It comes out aggressively enough that it’s clear that it’s not encouragement. 

A beat of silence passes between them before quietly, very quietly: “maybe I will.”

Joochan thinks he can hear the sound of glass shattering. He has half the mind to ask Jibeom if the house is being broken into, before he realizes that, oh—it's just the sound of his heart breaking. Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, he somehow chokes out a reply. “Good. Now maybe I’ll get some peace and quiet and won’t have to break my wrist writing letters for you every night.” It’s more honest than he wishes it is. 

Inhaling a shuddering breath, he steels himself as he pulls out the letter from the already-opened envelope. He knows that this is one of his writings, but still, he can’t help but wonder _who_ it is that has caught Jibeom’s—the boy he has pined after for years—attention.

He unfolds the letter open, and his entire world ceases to exist. 

The writing is familiar, but so is the writing of all other letters. After all, they’re all _his_ writing. No, what Joochan is staring at with dawning horror is the fact that this letter is a little _too_ familiar. 

Breath caught in his throat, his eyes slowly move to the right corner of the letter, where the date is written in frail, flourishing letters. 

Four innocent numbers, written out in smudged black ink, dating two years back.

Two years ago, Joochan hadn’t been writing letters for other people. No, he had written letters for himself, to release all the feelings he’d kept bottled up, the things he couldn’t say loudly. A way for him to let go of his most vulnerable emotions, his sentiments and wishes stripped bare and exposed. 

And now, the very thing he had nightmares of happening, is unfolding before his very eyes. 

He’s unable to take his eyes off of the paper grasped in his shaking hands, unable to look away from the destruction that is sure to happen as every word he reads only confirms his fears. He thinks he now understands the phenomenon of going through all five stages of grief at once. It feels like ages have passed when he silently lowers his hands.

The silence is so loud it's deafening. Neither of them makes a move to speak up.

Finally, Joochan does, every syllable strained. “Where… Where did you get this from?”

Jibeom shifts from where he’s standing. “ _You_ handed it to me.” Memories flit through Joochan’s head like the quick beats of a dragonfly’s wings as he scrambles to figure out _when-_

And he remembers assuming that there would be no way that one of his letters would ever mix up with the others, carelessly throwing a letter into his bag, and _oh, he’s so stupid._

And now Joochan understands the strange expression that has flickered through Jibeom’s face throughout the day, the suffocating air in the room.

Jibeom’s voice is so quiet he needs to strain his ears to hear it. “This… This letter. Is this…” He pauses, uncertainty hanging in the air between them. “...a joke?”

Joochan stares at him.

Joke. 

A joke. 

Joochan had laid himself bare in this letter, all his hidden sentiments buried in every word, and Jibeom _dares_ to assume that it is a joke. His nails dig into the palms of his hands, knuckles whitening.

But maybe, this is a blessing in disguise. He can agree that the letter _is_ indeed a joke, and he had thought it’d be funny to pull a prank on Jibeom. They can laugh about it while Joochan’s insides burn and his eyes prick with tears, and their friendship will stay intact and no harm will be done. They’ll be like they always have been, comfortable and warm and Joochan will continue to pine away, only revealing his affections in his letters.

The _yes_ is on the tip of his tongue. Just one word. One word, and it will be as if this had never happened.

Joochan looks at Jibeom, at the boy he’s loved for so long, and he can’t do it.

“No,” he whispers, hoarse and trembling with anxiety. “No,” he repeats voice louder. “It’s not.” He looks up, looking Jibeom in the eye. “It’s not a joke.”

Joochan isn’t sure what he had expected for Jibeom to do, but he knows it hadn’t been for the other to _smile,_ so bright that it rivals the shine of the sun and the gleam of polished gold.

“You didn’t finish reading the entire thing,” Jibeom says. He’s gesturing at the letter. Joochan looks over it in confusion.

“What do you-”

“Turn it over,” Jibeom says, and he’s still smiling. Heart pounding like a drum, Joochan does.

And there, in pretty little letters, is written:

_I love you too. Go out with me?_

The tears escape before Joochan can even register it and his knees go weak as he staggers back, wobbling dangerously before his legs go out on him and he crashes to the floor, Jibeom rushing to catch him before he falls too hard.

There’s panic in his voice as he frets over Joochan, whose face is slick with tears. “Oh, no, no—I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Don’t cry, I take it back, just stop-”

“N-no, it’s not that,” Joochan shudders, feeling light-headed. There’s no way, no way that Jibeom _actually-_ “Is this a joke?” He asks, his words mirroring Jibeom’s just from minutes earlier, but it’s the only other possible conclusion he can find and now he thinks he understands why that had been Jibeom’s first question.

Jibeom’s eyes are bright as he furiously shakes his head. “Of course not! I would—I would ever joke about something like this. I—You-” He stops, and Joochan realizes that he’s not the only one shaking and having difficulty catching his breath. “I’ve loved you for a long time now, and I could never find the right time to tell you.” 

The only thing Joochan can do is gape up at the other in disbelief, disbelief at the words coming out of the other’s mouth. Jibeom’s looking at him with such honest, soft eyes, eyes he’s only seen in his dreams, as he smiles and asks: “Hong Joochan, go out with me?”

Joochan kisses him.

Their noses bump painfully and it takes a moment for Joochan to locate Jibeom’s lips and for Jibeom to relax into it, but then they’re kissing and Jibeom’s hand is coming up to cradle Joochan’s face as he deepens the kiss, a soft sigh that sounds like _contentment_ escaping his lips. Joochan’s lips tingle when they pull away to catch their breaths, but it’s all for naught because one look at Jibeom’s fond expression is enough to make him lose his breath all over again. He deals with it by kissing Jibeom again.

And once more, for good measure.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Jibeom says cheekily as they finally separate, and Joochan beams, his eyes dancing, the smile that’s curling his lips very much mischievous. 

“Only if you add another box of chicken.” Jibeom groans.

“You’re just going to use me for food, aren’t you?” He says, but he’s smiling, and Joochan right back at him.

“How’d you guess?” He asks, and kisses Jibeom again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come be friends with me on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/yeosakoi) !! ty for reading !!


	2. quixotic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donghyun has a bad feeling when Bomin stands up in the middle of class and announces that he has something to say. 
> 
> A very, _very _bad feeling.__

Donghyun has a bad feeling when Bomin stands up in the middle of class and announces that he has something to say. 

A very, _very_ bad feeling. The feeling he gets when Jangjun approaches him with that evil glint in his eyes, the feeling he gets whenever Joochan is anywhere within ten feet of his vicinity. It usually means that whatever is going to happen is not going to be good. 

Specifically, not going to be good for _him._

Sweat builds up in his collar as Bomin goes up to their teacher, who’s fast asleep like the useless prick she is, whispering something in her ear. She looks perplexed but shrugs, back in her dreamland in record timing. Donghyun stops himself from being impressed, instead, focusing on the fact that Bomin is bounding to the front of the class now, the smile he has on his face giving nothing away. 

_WAKE UP,_ Donghyun shouts internally, as if he’ll be able to somehow connect telepathically with the teacher if he’s loud enough in his head. Bomin turns to face the class, back to the board. All his admirers cheer encouragement. 

Donghyun gulps.

Bomin opens his mouth, and his eyes are somehow even more sparkly than usual and his smile is so big and wide it’s hurting Donghyun’s own cheeks. “This song-”

Oh, no.

“-is dedicated to someone I admire very much, and have looked up to and have cherished for years.” 

No, no, _no, what is he doing?!_

“This is for you, Kim Donghyun. I love you.”

Maybe in a different setting, Donghyun might have been a little bit more shocked. However, all he can think now, as dozens of heads whip in his direction, is _stop him!_ The thought is what leads him to jump from his seat just as Bomin sucks in a breath, presumably to sing the first words of the song, his chair screeching behind him. He shouts before he can think of his choice of words. 

“STOP.” The room goes dead silent. It’s quiet enough that the people around him might be able to hear the sound of his heart racing.

Bomin looks like he’s about to cry.

His admirers are looking positively murderous.

He panics. 

“I mean, not like that! I’ll go out with you! You don’t need to sing!” He blurts out, and _oh, no, Bomin is beaming and this hadn’t been supposed to go this way!_

Bomin’s smile is so bright Donghyun has to cower behind a hand to not be blinded. “Donghyunnie!” He shouts and Donghyun blinks as Bomin is _running_ towards him and _what is he planning now-!_

A surprised squeal falls from his lips as Bomin knocks the breath out of him as he envelopes Donghyun in a hug, lifting him off his feet as he spins him around. It’s a wonder that Donghyun doesn’t go banging against the desks. 

“Donghyun! I love you so much, thank you, thank you, _thank you_. You’re the most-”

“Yes, yes. Now put me down-” 

Bomin kisses him and Donghyun reflects on the events that have led him to this moment.

In all honesty, it’s quite… no, _very_ nice. Bomin’s lips are warm and solid against his, and Donghyun can’t help but kiss back just slightly before he breaks away, just in case Bomin gets too carried away. Bomin doesn’t seem to care at all, peering down at him with his smile that makes even Donghyun feel a little mushy inside, his eyes practically dripping honey.

The classroom bursts into applause and now Bomin’s introducing Donghyun as his boyfriend, and Donghyun supposes he’s just along for the ride.

...He has a few words to exchange with a certain someone, someone whose name is written all over this confession. 

_I’ll kill you, Hong Joochan._

**Author's Note:**

> come be friends with me on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/yeosakoi) !! ty for reading !!


End file.
